[ How strange, that with Korra, this conversation might have veered sideways like a train sliding off its tracks. Devolving into a chaos of self-doubt, suspicion, recriminations, reassurances, and ultimately culminating into a messy quickie behind some alleyway, or in a tacky motel, because physicality is the best way they knit themselves together. Speech always threatens to fall askew. It's not the same with Yin. Her eyes glint a semaphore of patience and clarity, and he accepts her words as fact. Dimly, it makes him realize -- you can't have it all in a relationship. Constancy and trust versus the ability to thrill and stimulate -- these rarely dwell within the same person. So you take the best of what you can reasonably expect, make your choice and hold to it. It's why he'd been at a crossroads between Yin and Korra -- and why he'd ultimately chosen what he did. ]
[ After a beat, he reaches out. Touches her shoulder, just a light skim of fingertips. But his expression shutters into something honest, almost an intangible olive branch. ]
We're also friends.
[ As if that needs clarifying. (Perhaps it does. Neither of them are the type, after all. Or a better descriptor would be -- neither of them were the type. These days ... it's all too easy to wrench free from the formulaic prisons that once outlined their lives. Dolls don't feel. Contractors are always rational.) ]
no subject
[ After a beat, he reaches out. Touches her shoulder, just a light skim of fingertips. But his expression shutters into something honest, almost an intangible olive branch. ]
We're also friends.
[ As if that needs clarifying. (Perhaps it does. Neither of them are the type, after all. Or a better descriptor would be -- neither of them were the type. These days ... it's all too easy to wrench free from the formulaic prisons that once outlined their lives. Dolls don't feel. Contractors are always rational.) ]